


Damage Sustained

by lost_in_dark_places



Series: The Asset, his Mission [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And All Their Issues, Bruce Banner Is Not That Kind Of Doctor, Bucky Doesn't Trust S.H.I.E.L.D., Bucky Hates Doctors, Bucky Hoards Weapons, Bucky Likes Tech, Bucky's Comfort Objects Can Kill You, But He Helps Anyway, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Mad Science Sucks, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Hero, Tony and Bucky Bond Over Tech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_in_dark_places/pseuds/lost_in_dark_places
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the failed training session in "A Matter of Circumstance" there's a certain tension between Tony and the Team and Bucky feels responsible. Then Bucky is injured on a mission, and Tony goes above and beyond to help him out.</p><p>Tony tries to accommodate Bucky's Trauma since he stomped on it last time. Bucky wins the Trollympics, Bruce comes in second, and Tony is a sore loser.  Tony gives Bucky his life story while fixing his arm.  Bucky wonders why he keeps collecting self-destructive morons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage Sustained

**Author's Note:**

> All standard disclaimers apply, etc.
> 
> Trigger Warning:  
> The third scene is a Bucky POV of his arm malfunctioning. He is in pain throughout, panicking, and suffering flashbacks.
> 
> Bucky spends the first part of the fourth scene on the edge of a panic attack since he woke up in an unfamiliar place, disarmed, after being wounded. Tony and Bruce help him through it.

It wasn’t that Bucky wasn’t happy for the support, because it was nice knowin’ that Stevie and Natalia, and even Barton and Sam, all gave a shit about him. The problem was that they were so busy caring about him that they’ve locked Stark out.

Bucky’s gettin’ the distinct feeling that there are reasons for that, like Stark is a bit of a jerk that likes runnin’ his mouth off, but still. This one wasn’t on Stark. Bucky had been a rude shit to him with out even thinkin’ of—

(sitting on the side of a particular road with a rifle and a can of Gasoline.)

(how Howard was still alive when the Asset got down to the crash site.)

(how Bucky should have recognized him and done something, but didn’t.)

(how the Asset always completes his missions.)

—Things.

So the thing is, Stark was right. He was right to be pissed off. Bucky would really like the chance to tell him that, but Stark stopped coming to anything to do with the Team except actual Missions. The conversation Bucky wanted to have wasn’t something that belonged on comms, and Stark always just flew his damned robot suit home after.

So everything just sort of festered like that.

* * *

“Look, we gotta talk to Stark, this whole thing is outta hand.” Bucky says to Steve as they suit up.

(The Asset’s running Assessment of Team efficiency is officially in the toilet.)

(So Maybe that was a little bit of Bucky’s Assessment of the Asset’s Assessment.)

“I know this is bothering you, Buck, but I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” Steve says, “We were never that close. We kind of—“

“Tend to argue about every-fuckin-thing? I hadn’t noticed.” Bucky says.

“It’s not like that, it’s just—“

“If you get two stubborn asses stuck in the same room every minor disagreement is gonna be a disaster?” Bucky finishes, then he grabs Stevie to run an equipment check. This wasn’t even new, kid used to always run off with out his sidearm and shit— _Really, Buck, I’m fine with just the shield_ —like it ain’t just common sense to have a back up and and a hold-out or five.

Never had this issue with Natalia, girl knows where it’s at.

“Whose side are you on anyway?” Stevie asks.

“That’s the problem, we’re all on this team, there shouldn’t be any sides,” Bucky tightens a few straps, making Steve wince, “You taking a chute?”

“I don’t need a damned chute,” Stevie says.

“You are way too fond of jumping offa shit to not need a chute.” Bucky says, grabbing one.

“Bucky, no.” Steve puts the chute back, “going on comms.” he says and activates the little ear bud, just ‘cause he knows Bucky won’t embarrass him like that.

“Fine,” Bucky hits his own, “Sound off . . .”

* * *

The mission is a fuckin disaster.

Objective was a nest of—somethin’ Advanced Ideas. Fuckin’ Mad Science factory. Bucky fuckin hates mad science, and there’s reason for that—

Surprise tech of like he hadn’t seen since—Fuckin’ Azzano, those tanks, those guns—

Shortin’ out his fuckin arm and now—

“You keep them fuckers away, Stevie, you don’t let them—“

(wipe him)

“—F-fuckin’ touch me.”

“It’s—they’re S.H.I.E.L.D. techs, Buck, they just wanna—“

“N-nn-No, can’t fuckin’, I’ll kill’em. I’ll do it.” He has his gun, knives, he can—

—Arm winds up again—

People talk about pain being electric, have no idea.

“ss-Stark, get—I’m not lettin’ them, fuck.”

_(—new fist of Hydra—)_

_(—One last time—you don’t do your job, I can’t do mine—)_

_(but i knew him)_

_(Shhh, Yasha, the girl says)_

_(why is she crying, pretty girl?)_

_(The procedure has already begun—)_

_(Sergeant Barnes)_

Robot clunking along, oh no, Stevie, need the shield where’s yer fucking holdout punk igotyouitsokay—

“Don’t know why he want’s me—“

“Does it matter? He needs help—“

“No, you’re right, just confused, relax Cap, I got this.” Whirring near his head.

Fallin’ again? No. onnafloor, can’t touch, gonna kill’em.

“Hey, Barnes you with me here?” It’s Stark inna suit, visor up, Stevie’s okay, okay?

(Stteve Stttatus??????)

“Imma—I—Damage Sss—Mmmaitenece Rrr-“

“I got you, okay—“ his eye tracks across, thing, near his eye, like he’s reading, “Okay, diagnostic looks like shit, can’t fix you here. I’m going to have to disable the arm so it stops shocking the shit out of you okay?”

“mmake it ssss—“ Arm winds up again—

_(Your work has been a gift.)_

_(blood on the snow ohgod where is, my, ohmygod)_

_(and then you breathe in the ice and everything is fine it stopped only hurts for a minute don’t)_

_( thedoorswingsshut)_

_(The Asset is not assigned a, The Asset is not assigned)_

_(Shh)_

He can’t move he can’t move they’re gonna _(wipe him)_ ohshit please no notagain.

“It’s okay, Buck I got you, no one’s gonna hurt you I promise, I need you to come back to me, here—“

“Sstevie, can’t move, gotta,” the weight moves offa him and he (The Asset) springs up and (Assessment?) (. . . . . . ).

Stark and Stevie are a near where he had been, he can tell from the electrical burns on the floor, his left arm is dead weight, and his entire left side is—ohfuckno—

Can’t keep his feet—

Steve is there, he grabs Steve, “Need something to take the weight off, I need.”

One of the techs starts forward, Bucky pulls away dragging Steve.

“It’s, I have a sling,” the tech says.

“Give it to me.” Stark says, “Is that okay?” he asks Bucky, and Bucky nods.

Stark takes the sling and helps Bucky hang it and get his arm settled in, and fuck it’s all blacked and he doesn’t want to (blood in the snow) lose it again.

Oh, god, everything hurts. He’s clinging to Stevie, but Steve can’t really cross brace when his whole left side is-is—So the whole arrangement is kinda precarious.

“I can probably fix the arm,” Stark says, “but I need to get you to my workshop, and it looks like you need to head to med—“

“No.”

“Bucky—“ Steve says.

“No, I’m not goin’. They—they—“ _(the procedure has—)_

“Okay,” Stark says, “I can probably get— Hey Banner, we have a situation.” He turns away and closes the visor. Bucky kinda drifts a bit. Stark turns back, “Hey, Barnes,” Stark says with his robot voice, “Would you consent to let Banner work on you, understanding that he is only a certified genius and not a licensed medical professional of any kind? Speak up for the suit mics.”

Bucky thinks back to when he met (I prefer Bruce, or Dr. Banner). Kind face, graying hair, wears his body like an ill fitting suit, and no wonder, but—

“Yeah, Yes, Bruce.” Bucky says. Hard. Shock? Shock probably. Shit is gettin’ gray. “Stevie, you gotta. Not S.H.I.E.L.D.”

and after that things just went over the cliff.

* * *

He wakes up in bed, and it is a real bed, just not his real bed. Room is tastefully if blandly furnished, two doors, no windows. There’s a line in his arm, and he’d pull it out but his left still ain’t responsive and he tries not to panic over that. The black was polished off, but that just makes the wreckage easier to see, he remembers Stark saying he could fix it but. . . .

“Sergeant Barnes—“ The voice in an empty room, the title, has him on his feet back to a corner reaching for a knife—where the fuck are his knives?

“Whoa, hold it Bucky Bear,” Stark’s voice comes on, “That was just my AI, he’s—he’s like a robot butler, lives in the ceiling, kinda, and helps me run the suit. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” Bucky says, “I haven’t had much good experience with voices from nowhere Stark.” not sure if he could hear or not.

“Alright, I get that, me and Bruce are coming to you now, we could page Steve too but we just bullied his ass to bed like, an hour ago. . . .”

“No, let Steve sleep.” he slides down the wall, needing to sit, but unwilling to give up a position where he can see all the doors and nothing can get at his back.

His left side is a map of ugly, slightly tender, scars that run all the way below the waist of his pants. Well, the pants he’s wearing, some cotton print he’d never seen. Takes a moment for it to resolve into tiny Ironman masks.

He’s gotta laugh at that. At least it’s not a frilly apron.

He’s trying to calculate how long he’s been out when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Stark and Banner, can we come in?” Stark says, slightly muffled.

“Would be kinda stupid to keep you out there.” Bucky says.

“All do respect, Sergeant, that’s not an answer.” Bruce says.

“Fine, yeah, come in,” he says, “Call me Bucky, though, or James.”

The door opens and the men come in: Stark in the lead, Bruce kind of ducking behind him like he’d prefer to be somewhere else. Standard for Banner, according to Bucky’s admittedly small sample. Then Banner pushes to the front, pulling on this air of confidence that was clearly a little hollow.

“So, uh, could you—Would you like to move back over to the bed, James?”

Bucky would, in fact, like to stay right where he was, but he could see how that would be impractical. So he pries himself up and moves back over to the bed, then has a bad moment where sitting down would put his back to them.

 _This is stupid,_ Bucky thinks, _you already decided to trust them._

But he was pretty thoroughly disarmed (Ha) in a strange room god knows where and there’d been an I.V. in his arm so who knows how real any of this is anyway?

“How about we take this to the common room?” Stark says abruptly, “Maybe not, too open. Um. my workshop has only one door, and a couch against the opposite wall. Good sight lines.”

That alone took some of the tension away, no body ever offered to make the Asset more _comfortable_. Bucky screwed up his courage and sat.

“Let’s just get this done,” Bucky says, settling his arms—arm—beside him in a way that was familiar and hair-raising. He had a moment of deja vu, stuck in a room fulla people he trusts because he has to, then things settle again.

“Okay, If something goes wrong, tell me.” Bruce says as he circles slowly around, “Non-verbal” —by which Bucky understands to mean violent—“communication could be dangerous for, well, everyone, so let’s use our words.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees with a wry smile.

“First thing I’m going to do is check your arm,” Bruce says, “You pulled your I.V. line—which is fine, it was just a nutrient solution to support your healing—but I want to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too bad.”

Bucky offers his arm somewhat mechanically, and Banner accepts it carefully. Bucky realizes that he was already wearing gloves, so Bucky didn’t have to deal with that sense memory, people scrubbing up before—

“Are we, okay?” Bruce asks. Bucky takes a deep breath and nods, Bruce nods too, “Tony is going to set down my bag now, and I’m going to get a bandage for this.” He says, and Stark takes his cue, and Banner does exactly what he said he was gonna, slow and steady. “Do you want a sling for your arm?” he asks next. Bucky nods again and the sling is produced, and they settle his arm again.

“So now you have a choice,” Bruce says, “I can apprise you of your condition here or we can go get you something to eat first.” Bucky’s stomach growls, casting it’s vote.

“Food, definitely.” Bucky affirms. Banner smiles.

“I thought you might feel that way, I know I’m always starving after—“ his hands flutter.

“So, common room,” Stark says, “If it’s too much we can take the party elsewhere, but we should really stop at the fridge, I have an ungodly amount of Chinese Food. . . .” He already left the room, but hadn’t stopped talking. Bucky exchanges a look with Bruce.

“Yes, he's always like that.” Bruce says, with a long suffering sigh. They get up and Bruce says at least a half step in front of him, so Bucky can keep and eye on him.

The door opens into a short hall significantly brighter on one end than the other, Stark’s voice was coming from the bright side, so that’s where Bucky goes, Bruce keeping pace.

The room opens up towards a wall of glass, directly outside is some kind of huge deck, with a ramp(?) leading up to a landing pad(??), and beyond that a view of the Manhattan skyline from the inside. The room itself was stone, metal, and glass broken up by inexplicable shag carpeting. It was trying very hard to be very modern. It was also very open and had too many access points. Who wanted to live like this?

Bucky realizes he has plastered himself against the hall wall, right hand at the small of his back where his knife isn’t, and the air seems damned thin. Stark snaps his fingers and Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Shit, sorry, look I know exactly what you need. Stay right there.” Stark disappears. Bruce is guiltily eyeing Bucky while trying not to be to obvious about it. Must be hard living when anything can turn you into a wrecking ball and your life is filled with unstable people. Oh, wait.

Stark comes back with Bucky’s tac belt and what looks like one of Steve’s sweat jackets. He makes a motion like he’s gonna hand them over then checks himself, and throws the jacket over his shoulder and holds out the tac belt, “I could-ah?”

Bucky bemusedly holds out his arm and takes a half step from the wall. Starks hands are quick and clever on the straps, and readjusts everything to accommodate the much thinner pajama pants. It’s Bucky’s spare kit, prime probably didn’t survive the incident, so it was a bit stiff and it didn’t sit right without the rest of his gear, and his left side did not love it; but having it was so much better than walking around naked.

Bucky does a one-handed inventory as soon as Stark backs off and everything was there knives, all three guns, grenades. . . .”Grenades?” he asks.

“Yes, please don’t use them in the tower, my girlfriend has a hot temper.” Stark says, as he holds out the jacket so Bucky could thread his arm through. “Like, she’ll get really heated.” Starks says, as he drapes the rest of the jacket around Bucky’s shoulders, “A real firebrand, that one.”

Bruce groans, hiding his face in his hand.

“See,” Stark says, “It’s funny because she actually bursts in to flame if you annoy her enough. If you want a demo just call her ‘Hot Pepper’, it’s awesome.”

“Tony, don’t,” Bruce says.

“On the upside you two can get together and bitch about how much A.I.M. sucks.” Starks says, “How about we get you that food?”

Bucky finds himself fingering his knife again, but he nods, “Lead on.”

“Finally, some one recognizes my natural leadership qualities,” Stark says, and wave them further into his—den? lair? Stark is definitely the kinda guy to have a lair.

“I’m positive that’s not what that was.” Bruce says.

“Don’t be a downer, Brucie, let me have my moment here, besides shouldn’t you be Sciencing by now, Medicining? Is that a word? It can be a word, I just used it.”

“Definitely not a word, Tony, but neither is Sciencing.” Bruce says, in the tone of so-done-with-this-shit.

“So you say, Oh Most Green One.” Stark says, waving them at a line of bar stools while he ducks behind the bar, “You do the thing, I’ll get the food.”

Bruce waits for Bucky to pick a seat, then takes one a couple of stools down. “So. . . “ Bruce begins, then looks slightly horrified as Bucky wrestles his SIG out of his left thigh holster. It’s a special bitch since it’s really not meant to be drawn from the right, ever.

“Thigh holsters are fucking uncomfortable to sit in,” Bucky explains, setting the gun on the bar as he sits.

“Oh.” Bruce says, as he eyes the other two guns on Bucky’s left, but they’re more compact and less annoying. Stark snickers behind the bar.

“Anyway—“ Bruce takes a moment to rearrange his thoughts “Tony brought you straight back to the tower after the incident, by the time you’d arrived the healing process had already begun so there was nothing much for me to do beyond getting your gear out of the way and getting a line in you. You’ve been out for approximately 56 hours, Steve seemed to think that wasn’t normal—“

“That’s because he never ate enough to heal all at a stretch like that, ‘You need a fucking reserve,’ I’ve been telling him.” Bucky says. Bruce coughs into his hand in a way that Bucky reads as ‘covering a laugh’. Stark ain’t so polite.

“As you would probably know then, you seem to have healed any major damage while you were down, at a rate that is, frankly, astonishing. You’ve probably seen the scars—it’s likely they’ll fade over time, but increasingly unlikely that they will inhibit movement or diminish functionality. None the less, I would recommend some kind of physiotherapy to be on the safe side.”

Bucky nods, it’s nothing he wasn’t expecting, and he’s sure he and Natasha will be able to come up with something appropriate.

“That’s all I have to bring to this discussion, your prosthetic is Tony’s area of expertise.” Bruce says.

“And I must say I can’t wait to get my hands in your sweet tech,” Stark says, “Wait was that too forward? All I mean is that arm is a treasure and I wanna play with it. Wait, no, hold on—”

“Don’t mind Tony. He’s been poorly socialized.” Bruce says.

“Damn it, Bruce, I’m not a puppy that keeps peeing on the furniture!” Stark says as he slams the microwave.

Bruce gives Stark the flattest of looks over his glasses.

Stark presents Bucky with a dish piled with Chinese food, “Truth is, I love playing to an audience, and Bruce is the best audience.”

“Even though I heckle you constantly, and fall asleep during long productions?” Bruce asks sweetly.

“You,” Stark says, pointing at Bruce, “You. . . You saw that right Barnes? I tell everyone, and no one believes me: Bruce Banner is a wiseass troll. You saw that right?”

Bucky couldn’t answer because he was to busy eating. He managed to nod though.

“Ha! Your trolling ways have been revealed at last!” Stark says, arms up in triumph.

“Barnes is clearly an unreliable witness. You can tell by the hobo hair and too-large sweat shirt.” Bruce says seriously.

Bucky puts his fork down very gently and swivels his head towards Banner, letting his face fall into the Asset’s familiar blankness. Coincidentally, his hand lingers near his SIG. He waits for Banner to go pale, before grinning and going back to his meal.

“Oh! Oh, what is this?!” Stark crows, “The troll has been trolled! By a master! I’m not gonna lie, I might have to change my shorts after that one.”

Bruce takes a slow breath and lets it go, “I swear, you both have a death wish.” he mutters.

Bucky shrugs a shoulder, and pushes, his empty plate across the bar, “Please, I want some more.” he says.

Stark looks at Bruce, eyes wide, “I deserve all the credit.” he says.

“Only if you resist.” Bruce says.

Bucky sucks his teeth and thinks of Dickens, while he watches Tony’s face go through the most fascinating contortions.

Then it dawns on him. Bucky watches it dawn on him.

“This, he’s doing it again!” Stark says, almost stomping his feet like a child.

“Funny story,” Bucky says, drawing their attention back, “Stevie use ta read a lot, what ever he could get his hands on. Which wasn’t that much, mosta his money went to his meds, you know. Had a copy of Oliver Twist. Sometimes the only way to get him settled when he was sick was to read to ‘im, so I musta read that damn book to him dozens of times. Then in ’33, they make it a movie, and hell or high water, Stevie has to go. ‘It’ll be fun, Buck, just like the book.’ I didn’t wanna see the damned picture, I was so damn sick of that story, but Stevie is Stevie so off we go.”

Stark passes him a bottle of water, cap off, hypnotized to silence, “Thank you.” Bucky says, and takes a sip, “The fucking movie runs over an hour, but I sat through it because Stevie wanted it. I think, well, fine, did it it’s done, never hafta do that again.” Bucky smiles, “Thing is, the Black Widow program taught their girls accents usin’ movies. Do you know how many versions of Oliver Twist were produced between ’33 and ’97? Because I certain to hell do.” Bucky takes another sip of water.

There’s a moment of silence.

“No.” Starks says.

“I don’t know,” Bruce says.

“No, that’s bullshit.” Stark says.

“If it is, it’s the most plausible bullshit I ever heard.” Banner says.

Stark’s face contorts again, “No. No, I refuse to believe this bullshit. I’m not being taken in by another ex-whatever spy.”

“Spying wasn’t what they used me for, Stark.” Bucky says.

“Then you were underutilized!” Stark says, throwing up his hands. Then he eyes Bucky, “Are you actually still hungry, or was that just a lead in to your massive pile of bullshit?”

Bruce coughs something into his hand that sounds like “You’re one to talk.”

“I could eat, but I don’t need to.” Bucky says with a shrug.

“Then let’s get your ass down to my shop.” Stark says, “If I have to wade through this crap I’m going to have something fun to play with.” and he huffed off.

“Tony is a sore loser.” Bruce says, and offers his hand, “Well played.”

“You ain’t so bad yourself.” Bucky says, and they shake.

“Hey Barnes, are you coming or not?” Stark calls from the elevator.

* * *

So Bucky spends the time in the elevator with a knot in his guts because Banner isn’t coming along this time, which means he’s now alone with Stark. And yeah, he kinda wanted to have a talk with the guy, but that was before he imposed on him like this, what with his busted arm and taking up space in his home. (And the food, Christ, Bucky knows exactly what it takes to keep an injured super soldier fed, and it was gonna get worse before it got better.)

And Tony has obviously been takin’ pains to keep Bucky calm and comfortable—which could be fear, Bucky supposes, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt like the guy was just really trying not to be an asshole, which was messed up because he had every right to just throw Bucky out on his ass, shiny arm or no.

Then the elevators open and completely derail Bucky’s train of guilt. He couldn’t have been more wrong when he called ‘the Common Room’ Starks lair. This, from the cluttered work benches, through the cars and Ironman Suits set out like art pieces, right to the Ironman Pop-art prints on the wall, it was entirely clear that this was Tony’s Lair.

Stark waved him along through the glass doors (What is this man’s fascination with glass? He does know it will eventually shatter and be a fucking hazard right?)

“So we have options here,” Stark says, “I made a mock-up of your arm, it’s not nearly as badass, but it will be functional. We can swap them out and then I can take my time fixing your actual arm, with the added bonus that I’d be able to test it before I put it back on you, eliminating all chance of further electroshock funtimes. Or,” he says with a wave of his hand, “We can just work on it as is, with the understanding that I might fuck up, I mean, it has been known to happen, and if I do you could be in for another round of electrical burns.”

Bucky knows what the smart answer is, but he’s already hugging his arm to his chest. Does he want to be electrocuted again? Fuck no. Can he bring himself to part with his arm (wakes up in a cell and it’s—it’s, where the fuck is his arm?) again? Also No.

“It’s completely up to you, here.” Stark says, “I’ve been known to take stupid risks with my person for irrational reasons, so it’s not like I’m going to judge.”

“I-I wanna keep it.” Bucky says.

“Alrighty then, just give me a minute to set up.” Stark says, and begins clearing space on one of the benches and pulling together several sets of tools. He sets up a work rest at a 45 degree angle to the bench. “Chair or stool? Do you want to face in or out?” Stark asks.

“In,” Bucky says immediately because he really doesn’t want Stark reaching behind him regularly, the chair question is harder, because he might need the support eventually, but on the other hand the _(wipe him)_ chair. Fuck it, he has to make the smart choice sometimes. “Chair,” he says.

Stark gives him narrowed eyes, but goes to hunt up a chair. He wheels over this monstrosity of a leather chair, the kind you’d find in a hot-shot executive’s office, except the arm rests have been pulled (maybe hacked?) off, and settles it to the right of the work rest. “The arms were getting in the way when I was actually working instead of signing papers,” Stark says, as he adjusts the height of the chair, then eyeballs Bucky and adjusts the work rest. He goes back and forth between ‘em for a bit then grabs himself a rolling stool. “Come, sit, we’re burning daylight.”

“Not that you could tell down here,” Bucky says. The space definitely feels subterranean.

“Ha. You sound like Pepper.” Stark says waving him over, “Next, you’ll start complaining about Vitamin D deficiency.”

Bucky walks over to the workbench and wrestles his SIG out of holster (hopefully for the last damned time today, he wants his fucking arm back), and puts it on the bench, then eases himself into the chair. It feels nothing like—that other one. Really.

“Alright,” Stark sighs, “I’d really like to have J.A.R.V.I.S. in on this, since we’re only going to get one shot at making this repair job agony-free, and I am a huge supporter of agony-free repairs. So.” He grabs a small device off of the bench, “I can wear this, and I’ll have a H.U.D., which will let me interface with J, and leave you out of it. Downside, sometimes I’ll be talking to someone you can’t see or interact with.”

“Option two, I’ll use the Volumetric Display, it’s like sci-fi holograms but better because it works, and keep J.A.R.V.I.S. on comms, that way I’ll still be talking to someone you can’t see, but you will see the results of the conversation.” Stark says, “Downside, I’ve been told the Display can be a little overstimulating, you know, lots of bright moving things.”

“Option three, I take J.A.R.V.I.S. off mute, and you get to hear both sides of the conversation with whatever level of visual input works for you. Downside being that you were highly disturbed by J’s disembodied voice last time.”

“Can I see it? The display?” Bucky asks, excited but completely prepared to be disappointed.

“Sure, just, you know, like Bruce said, if it’s too much remember to use your words.” Stark pauses a moment like there was something he’d like to add, but then he shook it off. “Light it up, J.” he says.

A dozen screens shimmered into existence. Most held charts and schematics but three of them stacked together held people: Steve still asleep, Bruce in neutral toned room meditating, and a strawberry-blonde dame sitting in an executive office. Stark swiped at those screens, and they shut down.

He clears his throat, “It’s not that I regularly spy on people or anything. . . .”

“It’s just nice to be able to check up.” Bucky says. If he could have a live feed of Steve whenever he wanted, he would.

“Well, yeah, especially since A.I.M. got Pepper, I’ve been. . . .Well, I’m working on it.” Stark waves at the other screens and they push back.

“Lets get an exploded diagram of Sparky’s arm here, and . . . .Let’s say vital stats, brainwaves whatever you think with help us track any panic attacks, flashbacks, etc.” Stark says, presumably to Jarvis.

A small screen springs up, with various lines and waves bouncing around in it. But his arm. It comes up first, whole and undamaged, then separates into all the various moving parts.

Stark is staring at it like it holds the secrets to everything. Bucky can’t help himself, he reaches out and touches a part. He doesn’t actually feel anything but the part lights up and rotates, enlarging for a detail view while notes scroll along next to it.

“Howard never had anything like this.” Bucky says, and then he realizes what he said. He looks at Stark who looks a little pained, and maybe a little gratified.

“Well, it was a different time, you didn’t have the technology to support this yet.” Stark says, “Did you—Did you spend a lot of time with him?” Bucky heard the _before you killed him_ , even if Stark didn’t intend it.

“I was always in the workshop when we were on base.” Bucky says, “I always liked new tech, you know, then after Zola, Zola the first time,” Bucky swallows, “After that I got a little obsessed with weapons, you know, had to keep ahead of the curve, so I’d bring back whatever, an’ help Howard test it.” Bucky shrugs.

Stark huffs a little laugh.

“What?” Bucky says.

“Here, lets get your arm out where we can look at it and I’ll tell you my own little tale of unwanted body modification and obsession.” Bucky shrugs out of the sweat shirt and he and Stark work his busted arm over onto the work rest.

“So where to start?” Stark says.

* * *

“And then I woke up in a cave attached to a car battery—“

“—but Rhodey came and got me, so it was fine.”

* * *

“So that’s how Pepper’s hand wound up in my chest—“

“Fuck, Stark, how big was this thing?” Bucky asks.

“We have pics! J, show us the pics.”

“Holy Shit, did it always glow like that?”

* * *

“Stole it right out of my chest. Bastard literally ripped my heart out.”

“And he’s dead now.” Bucky says, _Right?_

“Oh, yeah, Pepper blew him up.”

“Oh, that’s fine then. A real firebrand you said. . . .”

“Yeah, Pepper’s the best. Which is why I gave her my company when I was dying.”

* * *

“You are a fucking moron, Stark.” Bucky says.

“Hey, it all made sense at the time.”

“Moron.”

“You know, Nick fury said something similar right before Natalie, I mean Natasha, stabbed me in the neck.”

“You are pretty damned alive for someone Natalia stabbed in the neck.”

“Well, it was more of a needle-thing. Saved my life. Gave me the time I needed to save my life.”

“Oh, she did that to me once, too. And she’s garroted me a couple of times. And—“

“I really don’t want to know about the twisted mating rituals of ex-whatever assassins, okay?”

“No, god, man, it’s not like that she was, twelve, maybe.”

“I really shouldn’t point out that the operative word there is ‘was’, because I value my life, but, hey, there it goes, I said it.”

“No. . . .” _Well._ . . .

“ . . .No.” Bucky says surer this time.

. . . _Do You Think?. . ._

 _. . . . Oh Shit, What Did I Just Do?_. . . .

“So any way, S.H.I.E.L.D. dropped off all these boxes of Dad’s old Stuff. . . .”

* * *

“Then Pepper gets Hammer, Me and Rhodey take Vanko, then bam, kissing on the roof.”

“You and Rhodes?” Bucky asks, not horribly surprised.

“What? No, me and Pepper!”

“Oh. It was ambiguous the way you said it.”

* * *

“And that’s how I met Steve. And Thor. Sort of.”

“Your plan was ‘Attack’?”

“You’re really hung up on that.”

“Just wondering what I did to deserve two of you. . . ” Bucky says, “. . . I’ve done a hell of a lot, but this still feels excessive.”

* * *

“You said **_what_** to Steve?!”

“And that’s when Barton showed up and started blowing shit up.”

“And then Bruce Hulked out and almost killed Natasha”

“. . . . . . “

“And then I got caught in an engine?”

* * *

“—Then there was this thing with a nuke and—“

“—and you know, thing—“

“Wormhole?” Bucky supplies.

“Fuck you very much, Electroshock.”

“Whew, gonna need a minute.”

* * *

“42 suits?” Bucky says, stunned.

“I told you: Obsessive.”

“But when did you sleep?”

“Well, mostly, I didn’t.”

* * *

“ _So, you gave him your address? You—_ “

“You realize everyone in my life has yelled at me for this already?”

 _“Well, now I’m in your life and I haven’t had a chance yet!_ ”

“. . . . Fair point.”

* * *

“And I say, ‘She was already perfect.”

“And then Pepper comes barreling out of the Flames and kicks his ass.”

* * *

Steve wakes up, and for a second he doesn’t know where he is. Then he remembers Bucky getting hurt, and how he asked for Stark instead of S.H.I.E.L.D. And how Tony came and helped immediately, despite all the reasons why he shouldn’t have, then flew Bucky back to the Tower himself rather then put him in a S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., what’s Bucky’s status?”

“Asset Barnes and Sir have been in Sir’s workshop for the last ten hours working on Asset Barnes’ arm, Captain. I estimate repairs will be completed within the hour. Dr. Banner has been providing them with food which DUM-E has supplemented with smoothies.” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, voice smooth as silk.  _Asset?_ Steve almost asks, but decides it was probably Bucky’s decision, since Jarvis won’t override titles for any one but the person being addressed and, maybe, Tony.

“Do you think they’ll want company?” he asks, and he hates how he feels like maybe he won’t be welcome.

“Sir indicates that you would be very welcome.” J.A.R.V.I.S. says as if he read Steve’s thoughts.

“Okay let me just—“ He goes to his duffel, and finds it open and rifled through.

There’s the tone that Steve has realized is J.A.R.V.I.S.’s way of clearing his throat. “Sir would probably want you to know that he came to retrieve Asset Barnes’ weapons and also a spare garment since neither his nor Dr. Banner’s would have been appropriate.” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, “Asset Barnes was adamant at the time that you rest.”

Steve wondered why Bucky would need his guns in the Tower, and then he remembered how he used to be in the War: always sleeping with at least one gun on ‘im and if he woke up in the night he’d do a maintenance check on his whole inflated arsenal. Grimly, Steve wonders if the Winter Soldier had been so over-armed for the same reason: it kept Bucky calm.

Steve grabs some things to change into, then washes up.

J.A.R.V.I.S directs him to the elevator, and there’s a long ride. When he gets out the doors to the shop are open, and there’s some music playing, softly considering Stark, something with electronic and mechanical undertones. The Lyrics were sad and haunting:

_Dust to dust,_

_Ashes in your hair remind me_

_What it feels like_

_And I won't feel again_

_Night descends_

_Could I have been a better person_

_If I could only do it all again_

Then beneath that he heard Bucky talking.

“I woke up in this fucking cell without it, and you know, I get it, it’s a fucking weapon, but so am I. You don’t take away a piece of someone because it might hurt you. That’s some real fuckin’ Hydra shit right there, and you’re talking to the leading expert on the subject.” Bucky says, “So S.H.I.E.L.D. can go fuck itself as far as I’m concerned, the only reason why I deal with them at all is because I ain’t letting Stevie wander around in that sty alone.”

Steve can’t see anything of Bucky except his arm: some of the sections are pulled back and Stark is tinkering inside.

“Hey, I get what your saying,” Tony says, “They’re a mess. Director Agent has done some good work, but it’s still a mess. That’s the thing with Shadow Organizations: they’re always half in the dark.”

“As some one who’s been living in the dark half, fuck that. You wanna do good in the world? Get your ass into the light. The Good you’re doing can stand the light? Then it ain’t fucking good. Scrap it, try again.”

“Eloquently put, Sparky.” Tony says and prods the sections of the arm shut. “Run it, J.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m a fucking poet.” Bucky agrees. His arm twitches and Tony pushes back hard on his stool, gliding away as Bucky jumps back out of his own chair. Steve catches glimpse of a pretty massive bruise on the far side Tony’s face, then gets distracted by the ridiculous combination of tac belt and (Ironman?) pajama pants Bucky was wearing.

“We good?” Tony asks.

“Shouldn’t you ask your robot? Hey, J, how’s my arm look?” Bucky asks the air.

“Initial diagnostics look clear, Asset Barnes.” J.A.R.V.I.S says.

“That’s what you said last time, now look at Tony’s face. Gotta give me better than that J.” Bucky says.

“Hey, don’t talk to J.A.R.V.I.S like that!” Stark says.

“Yes, we can’t have anyone expressing concern on your behalf, Sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S says way too dry for a robot, “As I often tell Sir, Asset Barnes, the ‘Initial’ is there for a reason. Patience is required.”

Bucky slowly flexes the arm. It seems to move cleanly to Steve, but Bucky is frowning. “I’m getting a bit of lag here.”

“Correct,” J.A.R.V.I.S says, and a schematic appears in the air next to Bucky, and he manipulates it like he’s been doing it all his life. “Look at this shit Stark, it’s the same goddamn circuit.”

“I hate to tell you this Buckyballs, but I think our issue is that your power source is still unstable. You’re still getting spikes and drops, and it’s throwing the calibration off.” Tony says, walking his stool back over so he could poke at the schematic too.

“I swear if you’re just saying that so you can get one of your reactors in my arm—“ Bucky says.

“As beautiful as the marriage of our tech is going to be, I wouldn’t screw with you like that Barnes, If you really don’t want—“ But Stark is waving at his work bench to open a holographic file. An A.R.C. Reactor pops out an Stark starts pulling it apart.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want, I just don’t want you lying to me to get it.” Bucky says leaning in to get a look at the new tech. Steve was reminded of Howard and Bucky crouched over some Hydra gadget.

Tony starts laughing,“This, this is such a date conversation. What the hell are we even doing?”

“Date? You just proposed marriage!” Bucky says, “I was gonna go rip a sleeve off a Tux.”

Steve starts laughing and both men startle out of their skins.

“Jesus, Rogers, make a fucking noise.” Bucky says.

“I did.” Steve says.

“I think he meant before you intruded on our moment. We were having a moment right?” Tony says.

“Yeah, sure, after you downgraded ‘Beautiful Marriage’ to ‘Cheap Date’.” Bucky says.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible at these things.” Tony says seriously.

“I know, I sat through nine hours of how horrible you are at these things.” Bucky says.

“Do I get to be the best man?” Steve asks.

“Of course,” both men said, then glared at each other, then Tony sighs.

“Fine, I’ll get Bruce, he’ll be more capable of appreciating the true beauty of the thing anyway.” Tony says and turns back to his schematic.

“How long will it take?” Bucky says, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Her?” Steve says.

“Please, tell me you aren’t going to name her.” Tony says.

“I might.” Bucky says with a sly smile, “Sheila.”

“What?” Tony says even as Steve says, “Why?”

“It might make Clint cry.” Bucky says, “And Natalia will laugh her ass off.”

“Those are excellent reasons.” Tony says. He waves over the schematic of Bucky’s arm, and starts modifying the A.R.C. to fit.

**Author's Note:**

> Tony eventually asks Natasha if she's ever seen Oliver Twist, Natasha says "That's the one with the orphan boy, right?" but doesn't give any further details: Tony dies of frustration. Bruce is happy enough to let Bucky's story it stand.
> 
> Bucky actually knows about all the Oliver Twist adaptions because Steve told him about them one day. Then he talked Bucky into watching a couple. Bucky likes the cartoon best, the one with the cat. The one with Elijah Wood is his second favorite.  
> ___________
> 
> The song in the last scene is "In This Twilight" from the Nine Inch Nails album Year Zero. I think Bucky would be fascinated and occasionally horrified by that album, and Nine Inch Nails in general.  
> ___________
> 
> Hey look, I have a [Tumblr.](http://lostindarkplaces.tumblr.com)


End file.
